Demon of her Dreams
by Murlyndsgirl
Summary: Anders isn't the only one who wrestles with the spirits of the Fade. Hawke's darkest secret and biggest struggle... Which one of her companions will finally save her? A series of vignettes as Hawke struggles with her own demon.
1. Chapter 1: Big Sister

**[when I Played Hawke as a mage, I couldn't help but feel that she was incredibly powerful. Maybe it was the spells I'd picked for her, but she just felt so ...invincible. What if, I surmised, whether it be a trick of fate, or simply lineage, Hawke really WAS exceptional, even from the very beginning of her life. Sensing that power, Hawke would find the world of the Fade and its denizens beckoning to her long before she was ever taught of the danger...]**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Big Sister**

She hid behind the sofa, her azure blue eyes round with fear and unnatural intelligence. Her father, Malcolm Hawke, did not spy her there, which was unusual. He was speaking to a plump woman who had been coming every week to see to mother. This evening, she'd stayed for hours.

"If she can keep off her feet, sirah Hawke, t'would be the best. Complete rest! Tis a bit too early if the babes should decide to come now, we could lose them."

The girl frowned from her hiding spot. She watched as her father nodded grimly, thanked the woman, and showed her to the door.

Taking her chance, the little girl scampered quickly across the room and into the room that had been off limits to her all day. Her very own mother, off limits! It had consumed her throughout the long hours. Why would Mama not want to see her?

The thought brought her to a complete stop. Her three year old brain wondered at the connection. New babies were coming, and she was very excited to become a big sister. Yet she frowned. Mother wasn't planning on replacing her, was she? With the new babies?

Leandra was resting quietly, her large middle seeming like a blanket-covered mountain. She felt a gentle movement of the bed, and smiled. "Mirah?"

"Mama!" Mirah Hawke gushed. "Are you going to be alright? Are the babies okay?"

"They're going to be just fine, Mirah," a deep voice answered from the doorway.

Malcolm Hawke carefully closed the door behind him and walked over to the side of his wife's bed. "I thought we'd agreed to let your mother rest?"

"Oh Malcolm, I'm glad she's here," Leandra countered. Mirah's sharp gaze thought her mother looked far too pale, however. She turned to her father. "She needs more healing!"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "She does, does she?" he asked.

His daughter nodded, her two longish pigtails bobbing. Malcolm couldn't help but smile. He had planned another healing session anyway, but didn't share this. Instead he said, "Healing can help, Mirah, but if your mother cannot get proper rest, magic cannot fix that."

His daughter nodded solemnly.

Malcolm sat on the edge of his wife's bed and took her hands. "Another session is probably needed, Leandra."

Leandra closed her eyes and nodded her permission. With Mirah, she had avoided healing save for the actual birth. The twins, however, were proving far more difficult for her to carry. She worried about the effect of magic flowing through two unborn children, but kept that fear to herself.

Malcolm rested one of his large hands on the swell of Leandra's abdomen. He drew deeply from his own reserves, weaving a wash of blue healing over his wife and unborn children. Mid-spell, he felt Mirah's small hand atop his own, and he smiled…until he felt a tiny spark of energy from Mirah herself.

The spell faded and Malcolm frowned.

Leandra mistook his expression. She'd felt nothing amiss. "What is it, Malcolm? Are the twins -?"

Malcolm Hawke blinked and his gaze met Leandra's again. He smiled to reassure her. "No, they seem strong and well, my love." He leaned over and kissed his wife gently on her forehead. "I'll get this one tucked into bed," he offered.

Mirah Hawke, however, was already deeply asleep.

* * *

(into the Fade we go ...) (Comments or reviews are so welcome!)


	2. Chapter 2: Best of Friends

**{At the tender age of three, Hawke has touched the power of the Fade. Considering the woman she will someday become, the event does not go unnoticed ...}**

{All these people belong to Bioware}

* * *

**Chapter 2: Best of Friends**

Three year old Mirah Hawke stood in a beautiful rose garden, like the ones the fancy ladies had on the north side of the city. It was her most favorite place, and here it was in her dreams! She laughed, and ran in circles, disturbing the butterflies and being scolded by the songbirds. Lately she'd been able to dream the best of dreams. If her mother hadn't been so sick, she would have told her all about them.

Mirah paused, frowning. She certainly hoped Mother would be all right. She wanted her brother and sister to come on out and play with her. (It WAS a brother and a sister. Mirah didn't know just how she knew, but she did.) Father has been so busy caring for Mother, no one had time to play in what seemed like … well, forever.

She bit her bottom lip wistfully. Mother just HAD to be all right. The babies would be born, and then they'd all be able to play. And Father would laugh again. He'd been so serious, so worried. Mirah closed her eyes. She wished …oh, she just wished she could ….

"Hi!" a voice sounding like windchimes called.

Mirah opened her eyes. A little girl exactly her age, size and height stood at the garden gate of her dream. She was the most beautiful creature Mirah had ever seen. Mirah was breathless for several moments.

"Hi," she answered finally.

"Can I come in?" the girl asked.

"Sure."

The girl opened the gate and walked in. "Wanna play with me?" she asked.

"How did you get in my dreams?" Mirah asked her.

"I found you. You are VERY special. We're going to be best friends!"

"We are?"

The girl nodded.

Mirah thought about this. It wasn't as good as having a real best friend to play with during the day, but at least she'd have someone to talk to while her parents were so busy.

"Okay. What is your name?"

"I am here just for you, Mirah. What do you want to call me?

Mirah considered.

"You don't have a name?"

"Xenaxya"

Mirah laughed. "Can I call you Zani?"

Zani smiled. "I would like that very much." She held out her hand for Mirah to take.

Mirah took her hand, but paused. "There is only one thing – since these are my dreams, I'm the boss, okay?"

Zani paused, a momentary frown disturbed her perfect features. Their hands were clasped, it was done.

"Well, I guess that is only fair," the demon said.

* * *

muhahahahaa! having a demon along for the ride is going to make life even more challenging for our Hawke ...

(comments? suggestions? please let me know! )


	3. Chapter 3: Playtime

**{Patiently building this ...maybe we should add a small /horror to this description?}**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Playtime**

"What should we play tonight?" Zani asked Mirah Hawke. Mirah glanced around her dreamworld within the Fade. The last year had been so full of promise, but Mirah could not help but feel disappointed. Her baby brother and sister were NOT much fun to play with, as it turned out. Her Mother had laughed and told Mirah that they'd be able to play soon enough, but Mirah was impatient. She was four and a half now. When would the twins catch up with her? She pouted.

The fancy rose garden just wasn't what she wanted tonight.

"I want to see someplace new," she said.

Zani looked thoughtful. "I could help you. I've been to LOTS of places."

"You have?"

Zani nodded. The false sunlight of the Fade sparkled on her blonde hair.

For a moment, Mirah frowned. Something still didn't seem completely … right … about having Zani in her dreams every night. She'd wanted to ask her Father about it, but it seemed that every time she thought of it, Malcolm Hawke was busy helping with the twins or off working as a highly-paid tutor to some of the wealthier families in town.

"We could even visit someone else's dreams," Zani suggested.

Mirah blinked with surprise. "You can do that?"

Zani smiled beautifully. "Of course I can. I found YOUR dreams, didn't I?"

Mirah began to pace, her hands clasped behind her back. This sounded fun, but where to go? Who to visit? Suddenly, she had an inspiration. "The King!" she announced.

"King Maric?" Zani asked. "Why him? He doesn't even have any magic."

"He lives in a palace!" Mirah explained. Wasn't that reason enough? "And …he's the Saviour of Fereldan!"

Zani shrugged. "Okay …but, there's one, little thing."

"What is that?"

"I need a some of your power to get us both there."

"My power?" Mirah asked. Zani wasn't making any sense. Maybe this wasn't such a fun idea afterall…

"You have power in you, silly!" Zani laughed. "I just need a little bit."

Mirah Hawke considered this carefully. Zani was right, Mirah knew she had power. "How do we do this?"

"Let's walk through your house, I'll show you."

Mirah nodded. It was easy as pie. They were soon standing in her bedroom. The floorboards were cool and an autumn wind blew outside her window.

"This way," her best friend said.

She followed the blonde girl through the house, moving quietly despite the fact she KNEW it was her dream. She was making it so very real, though. She heard her father snoring through the closed door to her parents' room.

Zani sighed sadly.

"What's wrong?" Mirah asked in a whisper.

Zani said wistfully. "I just wish I could be here with you."

Mirah nodded. "I do too."

They reached her father's study and Zani stopped. "I probably shouldn't go in there," she said.

"Why not?"

"It's not my house."

"Oh…but then why-"

"What we need is close by," Zani interrupted. "In the bottom desk drawer, far in the back. "

Mirah opened the door to the study and went in. She had never been in this room without her father present. It was, if this had been the real world and not the Fade, probably a very bad thing to do. It troubled her still.

From the open doorway, Zani motioned her on. "It's in the desk!" she whispered. "Hurry!"

Mirah slid open the drawer, and reached inside. Her small hands soon found what seemed to be a fountain pen, carved out of some sort of smooth stone. She frowned and drew it out to look at it. "A pen?"

"No, but let's go. I'll show you, and we can go see the palace!"

Closing the door behind her, Mirah led Zani back upstairs to her room.

"Now what?"

"Open it."

Mirah discovered that the smooth cylinder twisted open. She withdrew the handle and a golden needle-like knife was revealed.

It seemed to glow slightly. "It's magic." Mirah stated.

"Ready to go?" Zani asked.

Mirah Hawke nodded. "What do I do?"

"Prick your finger with it"

"What?" Mirah frowned. That sounded crazy.

"Be brave. It's the only way," Zani purred.

The young child who would someday be Champion of Kirkwall steeled herself, and pressed the wickedly sharp point of the needle into her fingertip.

They both watched as blood quickly welled there. It was only a heavy droplet, and it didn't even hurt much, Mirah realized.

Zani took her hand and raised it to her mouth. The blonde girl licked the blood from Mirah's finger.

Mirah Hawke gasped. Power! She felt slightly dizzy while Zani positively glowed.

"Payment accepted," the girl demon purred.

* * *

Zani is, afterall, a demon. She's supposed to be creepy!:-)

Review, if you would be so kind! I'm feeling so low on mana... what could make this better?


	4. Chapter 4: Wrong Turn

**{More weaving in the past. The cameo below of Maric Therin comes via the good graces of JayRain, from her delightful and poignant series about Cailan's struggling teen years, beginning with Questing Eyes, s/7139000/1/Questing-Eyes **

**You will never think of Cailan the same way after you read her stuff! Fair warning! **

**I've never been able to play Hawke as a bloodmage, and I don't think I could. She is too much Malcolm Hawke's daughter. She's being dragged down this path, but let's not forget that she's still a Hawke.}**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Wrong Turn**

Not a single glance of a palace.

Mirah Hawke felt robbed. Instead of mirrors and chandeliers, she and Zani watched as Maric Therin, King of Fereldan, wondered aimlessly through a large stable. The King was looking for someone, but he did not want others to know. The weather was cold, and Mirah found herself shivering. The bad thing about someone else's dream, she discovered, is that you have no control of anything.

She and Zani stalked the King, keeping out of his sight. Finally, the King spotted the object of his search: a boy with sandy blond hair was mucking out stalls. The shovel was as large as the boy, it seemed, and it was hard work to shovel the manure into the waiting wheelbarrow. Steam rose from the boy's breath and sweat seemed to freeze on his brow. He paused to rest, wiping at his forehead, and blowing into his hands to warm them. He wore no gloves, and in places his skin was cracking from the cold.

Mirah's heart melted. She liked this boy. She wanted to help him.

Zani caught her arm, and shook her head in warning. It was a dream. The King's dream.

But the boy was real, Hawke just knew it.

The King did not approach, but balled his fists in anger. Mirah's was heartened to see this, maybe the King would fix things? Something just felt …wrong.

Instead, her King, the Saviour of Fereldan, turned his back on the boy and strode out of the stable. As he turned, Mirah caught a look of anguish on the man's face. "I'm sorry Alistair," She heard him say.

The boy kept working, having never noticed the King, or the girls, in the first place.

"Let's go!" she ordered Zani

xxxxxxxxxxxx-x-x-xx-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x

"That was NOT fun!" Mirah accused Zani when they returned to her own part of the Fade.

Zani sighed. "I know. The boy is so lonely."

"It's not just that," Mirah decided. "It just felt …wrong. We're not doing that again." She looked at her finger which still had an angry-looking mark on the tip.

"There are other dreams, better ones …" Zani began.

"I said no!" Mirah Hawke repeated. Her blue eyes flashed. Zani stared back at her. After a moment, the blonde girl's eyelashed fluttered and she began to sniffle.

Instantly, Mirah regretted her harshness. "I'm sorry I yelled, Zani." She said, and gave her friend a hug.

Zani accepted the hug, a sly smile crossing her face as she held her Mirah. "I just want us always to be friends. Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

But our Hawke is growing up, and her father is no fool. Next chapter is already in my head, will post soon!

Please comment. Anything, good bad or ugly. TY!


	5. Chapter 5: Discovery

**{Apologies for how short this is: it's a small glimpse of a father's worry}**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Discovery**

He'd scared her. Terrified her, more accurately.

Malcolm Hawke sat down on the edge of his bed and frowned. Maker above, he wished he were better at this! As a student in the Circle of Magi, he'd noted hundreds, no, THOUSANDS of ways HE would be a better teacher than the ones he had been forced to endure. It was in his bones, his desire to teach; to lead others to the place he had found, at peace with the Maker and with his magic.

How could he have begun so poorly? He pulled off his boots as his mind reviewed and analysed.

His firstborn had magic. He'd suspected such for the last two years, watching her carefully since for a stronger manifestation. This week, finally, little Bethany had scratched her hands when she'd fallen outside, and before Malcolm could get there, Mirah had been comforting her baby sister, telling her not to cry … and…healing her.

And so, the lessons had begun. (If only Leandra would cease crying…but that was a different matter entirely.)

Yesterday, as calmly as he could, Malcolm had explained about the Fade, and about demons, and how as mages, they had to always be on their guard, always ready to have magic serve what is best in them, not what is most base. He thought he had projected his confidence in her; that she would be strong, and true. And that he would be there to help her.

He'd not been prepared for her look of terror.

His little girl had not slept since.

He pulled off his tunic and tossed it into a corner. Up again, and pacing. He'd tried (Maker, he'd tried!) to reassure his daughter.

Obviously, there was more to teaching a five year old than he'd expected.

The door to the bedroom opened and Leandra quietly stole inside. Malcolm was pleased that she looked calmer. "Is she asleep?"

Leandra shook her head. "Not yet. But I gave her a special tea to drink. She should be able to sleep soon…" Leandra suddenly had to blink away tears. Malcolm came to her and took her into his arms. She held him tightly, her cheek against the warmth of his chest. "Oh Malcolm! Why her!? Why would the Maker do this to us?"

So it was finally out. Yet, something inside Malcolm suddenly turned to ice. He steadied his reaction and gently pulled away so he could look at his wife's beautiful face. Lifting her chin to look into her eyes, he asked, "Do you really think it is a curse, Leandra?"

She paused, her eyes widening slightly at his reaction. Thoughtfully, she reconsidered. "Not …not with you, Malcolm. You've always been so … so confident. But Mirah is our baby! To make her face this –"

He silenced her with a finger to her lips. "It's a gift, trusted to her, and to us."

Leandra studied him. He was so solid, so certain of his convictions. She found herself nodding, throwing over her doubts and fears and leaning entirely on her husband's strength. It was familiar territory. With a sigh, she surrendered, and slid back into his arms. The smooth feel of his skin over his muscular form, the smell of him, ...everything about him! - drew her to him once more. She was a tiny moth in the night and he was her flame; without him, she would be lost. Standing here, in his arms, she knew she'd leave her family and her city all over again, just for him.

Malcolm stared at the wall and tried not to remember his daughter's pale, haunted face. He would be strong, for her. For all of them.

x-x-x-xx-x-x

Mirah could no longer stand. No longer think. Collapsed into a heap onto the floor, she fell asleep.

* * *

**(again, sorry so short! Now, back to the Fade! )**

**(please say hello if you haven't already! ty ty!)**


	6. Chapter 6: Guilty

**[A/N: If Hawke seems like an unusually intelligent child in this scene, it is because she is. :-) ]**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Guilty**

Mirah Hawke walked along a paved road. She was in the center of the city, on her way to the courthouse. She remembered the trip she'd made with her father just last week to see the city officials.

Only now the city was barren. Mirah walked here, within her dreams, deep in the Fade. She was not alone, however. Zani was not far away, Mirah could sense her.

Zani. Her "best" friend. Mirah frowned. Zani, or Xenaxya, was a demon. And now Mirah knew the truth.

She was older now. Seemed older than her scant five, almost six, years. She was angry. And afraid.

At last she reached the great stone edifice at the end of the street. She climbed the stairway leading to the audience chambers and made her way into the great hall. There, she found the dais where the rulers of the city sat to make their pronouncements. It was fitting she was here.

Zani was already walking up the center aisle when Hawke turned to face her. Of course she was, it was Hawke's dream. Her rules.

Zani was still perfectly beautiful, full of grace and sparkle. She curtseyed.

Mirah frowned. "You don't fool me anymore. I know you're a demon!" she accused.

She waited for Zani to be surprised. Or try to lie. Instead the blonde tilted her head to one side, and said, "There are many different spirits in the Fade, Mirah."

"But you are a demon. You tricked me!" Mirah was surprised to find a sword in her hand. She pointed it at Zani, "You lied to me!"

"I have never lied to you, Mirah,"

"I don't believe you."

"Fine, don't!"

Mirah frowned. This was not how she planned this. The sword in her hand turned to a dagger.

"I want you to go away, and never ever come back, Zani.

"I can't,"

"That is a lie!"

"No, it's not. Listen to me, we're best friends. I cannot leave you, it is against the rules."

"What rules?"

Zani sighed. "There are always lots of rules. This is one we cannot ignore."

"I don't want you here."

Zani looked hurt, "You said we could always be together!"

Mirah opened her mouth to protest, closed it, and frowned. "But you tricked me. It doesn't count."

"I just want to be friends-"

"NO! You are a DEMON! You want to kill me, turn me into …" Mirah could not remember the word her father used.. "Turn me into something bad! I will NOT let you!"

"I would never hurt you!" Zani protested. Tears glistened in her crystalline blue eyes. "Never, Mirah. I was …dying, before I found you. Why would I want to hurt you?"

Mirah blinked away tears of her own. Zani seemed so much a part of her… she closed her eyes. So many adventures together. Her heart felt like it was tearing and bleeding inside. "But you tricked me. I can never, ever trust you." The dagger still shone silvery in Mirah's hand.

Zani's eyes widened with fear. "Don't do that, Mirah. You will hurt us both!"

"What?"

"It will hurt you, too. Badly! Just don't!" There was real fear in Zani's eyes.

"I don't care, Zani. Xenaxya. Whoever you are. I'm telling Father tomorrow, then we'll see what hap-"

"No!" the demon jumped to her feet. "No, Mirah, THINK! He will hate you then. Send you away! You'll be so sad, it'll break my heart. Don't do it!" Zani approached and fell to her knees. "Please, Mirah. I'm begging. Give …give me a chance to prove I am not like the others. Your rules, remember?"

Mirah Hawke frowned with confusion.

"Your rules. I … I will obey them," Zani promised.

Mirah hesitated. The dagger wavered, and disappeared. She sighed, "I don't want to see you here in my dreams anymore, Zani. Be invisible. Just … leave me alone. It has to be this way."

Zani blanched, but closed her eyes and nodded. "But I will be here if you need me. I promise."

Mirah frowned, "I think that is the problem."

* * *

**So Hawke is stuck with her demoness. As you may have guessed, Zani is not your normal, run-of-the-mill desire demon. (because Hawke is not your normal, run-of-the-mill mage!)**

**Perhaps I am reading this wrong, but I think in this case our Hawke will NOT tell her father. Could she ever risk admitting to the thing that he warned her about most severely? The disappointment in his eyes would kill her. She knows this instinctively. It becomes a secret then. I am beginning to see how this will effect nearly every relationship when she is in Kirkwall ...**


	7. Chapter 7: The Demon Speaks

**[a/n: Thanks to a challenge from Wintryone (check out her amazing Misadventures fic!) This chapter is written from the Demon/spirit's POV. WARNING: Some explicitness ahead. ]**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Zani speaks**

There is nothing quite so beautiful as a perfect set of toes. I wiggle mine and admire them, having just finished concentrating on a new polish and trim. The shape of each toe having been carefully wrought, the shape of each nail…

Balls, but I am bored.

So easy to remember different toes, far superior in beauty, belonging to a body too perfect to cover. The shimmering veils I wore through the city were almost a crime, keeping my absolute perfection away from my many followers.

Arlathan.

The familiar ache follows. It always does. But I push away the anger. I am not a slave, you see, of those baser emotions. With a sigh I wonder if sometimes it would not be so much easier if I were. Just burn myself out in a glory of hate and be done with it. Poof!

I laugh then, because I am funny, and then I pout, because my Hawke is not here to laugh with me. It is not yet her time to dream, and the veil here is too thick for me to watch her; so I must wait. I have attached myself here. She is my anchor, and I'll ride out the storm of her life with her. Perhaps not as brave as the other spirits of the Fade, but, (I congratulate myself) so much smarter in the long run.

Except when one is starving. There is that one, small, point.

Through her dreams, which she could not entirely hide from me, I was watching Hawke grow up. She still resented me, pushed me away when she felt I was getting too close. Ah, my beautiful, stubborn, Hawke. She had no idea what lengths I would go to in order to protect her.

She wouldn't believe me if I told her.

A trickle of affection here, when she dreamt of Bethany, or her parents, a touch of joy there, when she reviewed in her dreams a mastery of some new magical theory, a growing annoyance toward Carver…annoyance was not my favorite flavor, but a starving spirit cannot be picky.

I stretch and lie back, wiggling my pretty toes once more. For a human, this crafted form is a good one. Growing up, too; exactly mirroring Hawke's need for a best friend. I could be patient. Two thousand years in Arlathan taught me that. Invited there to live and love. A gift to the people…

I close my eyes. One breath of that place could sustain me for centuries, if only I could have it. I dig my fingers angrily into the dream earth beneath me.

Only …wait. No. Let's not go there. No Poof today, ma'seranas.

A flicker of desire catches my interest. I turn my head and narrow my gaze.

Ah, yes. A Templar dream. Always good for a little something.

I sit up and lean closer. Anchored as I am, I cannot (will not) leave Hawke to roam closer, but this dream is close enough for me to watch.

Templars are so adorable. Never understanding that they could not be Templars if, in fact, they were not a teeny, weeny bit mage too. Ah, the look on their faces when I slip into their dreams and tell them, sometimes. Horror! Shock! I laugh, because making these stiff-necked humans doubt their ridiculous view of the world is something I delight in doing. Some actually accept it, in time. And allow me to teach them to shape their dreams, as full mages too.

This templar is so full of need, it is delicious! He aches to touch (ah yes, the usual story, isn't it?) HER, a young mage who won't even look him in the eye. I'm a little disappointed, but the taste of his need is intense. I close my eyes and take it in. He stands in shadow, watching her. They are in a room lined with stone (the Fereldan circle, probably, I guess – although I didn't think I could feel their dreams from Hawke's family home. Traveling templars, then.) He steps further back into shadow, unable to contain his need, his hand moves beneath his Templar skirts, to unbuckle and then free his manhood. The complexity of his need being met by the pleasure of his own touch while his need is NOT met because it is not her touch is MUCH better than I was expecting.

I do so love Templars. All that repression! Mmm.

Ah, there's more. The young mage is putting a book away, walking toward him, but he doesn't notice in time. She sees him, exposed, his hand on his own impressive (It is his dream afterall. I chuckle at this) equipment, and instead of screaming, she is overcome, falls to her knees and opens her mouth for him to use …

Pleasure soars, and I am pleased. There is something to be said for a rich fantasy life. The intensity of this pleasure tells me that this part, at least, he's experienced before.

Before he can climax, however, other spirits have arrived, attracted to the feast. They are in my way, blocking! Bitches! Like dogs on a dead carcass, they are, gulping down every last morsel. Ugh! Stupid! All of them! I'm left with a scarcest remains of the meal that I needed.

I sigh, then. Well, better than nothing, I make myself think. Better than starving, I remind myself, because remembering more (like basking in the sunshine as laughing followers massage me with sweet oils..) brings me to a dark place that always ends in blood. I prefer the perfection of beauty and intelligence. So much better than Poof, all flame and hate. I smile (it's a dazzling, beautiful smile, too, if only anyone were here to see it).

Maybe the needy Templar will be in town for a while? One can only hope. Yet… Templars, templars …there was something…oh yes.

Templars scare my Hawke.

I frown. There are Templars near my Hawke. I sit up again, wiggle my perfect toes, and wait. Hawke will need to know. I just have to find a way to make her listen.

* * *

Comments welcome! :-) My premise has been this: Hawke is exceptional, so she would attract a spirit/demon who is also exceptional. Thoughts?


	8. Chapter 8: Games to Play

**[Changing directions: Hawke still has an upper hand - the demon (spirit?) is bound by rules that no other spirit has ever agreed to before. Neither has any choice. Moving time along so we can get to Kirkwall, this small piece (as Hawke is growing up) is just part of the study that will define Hawke for the rest of her life. ]**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Games to Play**

Mirah Hawke winced as her head bounced against the side of the wagon her family was using to escape. It was dark, and she was numb, inside and out. She could hear Bethany breathing steadily – finally. Her little sister had been crying for hours, blaming herself for what was just an accident.

Carver had refused to sleep in the back with his sisters, making an excuse that he wanted to ride up front with Father. Mirah knew better. Carver was furious with Bethany; furious at his magic-using sisters.

As if the girls could help being born with magic.

Mirah Hawke pulled a quilt more closely to her chin. As she tried to settle against the side of the wagon, a vicious rut in the dark road caused the wagon to jostle violently. Maker, she was going to have a permanent bruise on the side of her head by the time with was done!

She had no idea where they were going. It bothered her.

Their house, Father's library, the fancy gardens up the street: ALL GONE.

She would not cry.

She heard a quiet noise above the rattle of the wagon, and turned her head to listen. It was Mother, weeping again.

Little Bethany was a mage. Mother was devastated; she'd been hoping for a "normal" life for at least one of her daughters.

Mirah sighed. Maker knew, she was never going to be anything near normal. There was a demon haunting her dreams each night.

A spirit, anyway.

Whatever it was, it HAD warned Mirah about the Templars a few weeks ago. It had helped then. Now, however, all of that was for naught.

They'd been playing a game they called "Battle of River Dain" when it happened. You divided into teams, the Orlesians or the Heros, each side had a person who was "it". If you tagged the "it" person, he/she had to come with you back to your base. Their team members could untag the "it" person, or tag you with both hands and make you lie down (die) until the other side's healer tagged you.

It'd been a great game. Until Ryer, the boy three times the size of his peers who lived up the street, decided it was time to bully Carter again. Mirah had not witnessed the bullying; having been quite intent (she'd lost the marker toss and was heading up the Orlesian forces) when she heard screams in near the big apple tree. By the time she'd gotten there, Ryer had run off screaming about magic, Carter was yelling at Bethany that he could defend himself why did she think she had to interfere, and Bethany …

There was a scorch mark on the apple tree.

Mirah had grabbed her and they'd run home. It'd been near sunset anyway. Less than twenty minutes later, the family (leaving a few low lamps lit in the house) had bustled out the back door with as much as they could carry. On the outskirts of the city, Father had bought a wagon and a team of horses.

Gold. Father had saved, it seems, against the day they would have to leave this way. "Just take what you cannot replace; the rest we will buy again. Hurry!"

For whatever reason – perhaps Ryer had not convinced his parents that he was telling the truth, or, perhaps the Templars at the Chantry were all at supper … but, for whatever reason, they had not been chased yet.

"I wish I could help!" Zani complained.

Mirah blinked with surprise. Had she fallen asleep? She looked around her dream and found that she was still in the wagon, only now it was parked. Zani sat there with her, beside her. The demon's voluminous blonde hair swept back into a hasty ponytail and she was wearing fine leathers, dyed an impossible shade of dark green. She was dressed for travel?

Mirah wanted to laugh. Instead she frowned. What game was this really?

"Are you mocking me, Zani?" Mirah growled.

The blonde drew back as if she'd been slapped. "I would not!" She drew her arms about her knees, pulling them close. "I have lost a home, too, Mirah Hawke. I know your pain."

Now Mirah felt bad. Zani was so confusing! "I'm sorry, Zani." She said. Being mean to the spirit just seemed wrong. Of course, that is what the spirit wanted her to feel, wasn't it?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Zani sighed, "I cannot, for I would lose myself to anguish again." Zani shivered, although whether it was from the memory of loss of her home, or having given in to anguish, Hawke didn't know. But a touch of Zani's temptation unknowingly touched her: to give in to the anguish, the loss of her home, her friends, the thousands of things in their neighborhood that she would never see again…

Father had caught her in a hug as he'd helped her aboard the wagon that night. He'd held her close for a moment, and said, "We are still together, Mirah. Do not look behind, but ahead!"

She shared Father's advice with Zani. Zani considered, then smiled wanly. "I am afraid that is something you do far better than I…"

"Perhaps you should practice then," Mirah countered, finding a weak smile at last. "That's what Father says when I tell him I'm not good at something."

Zani nodded. "I will, then."

Inexplicably, Mirah felt her heart's burdens ease. Look ahead. She would never forget her first home, but she refused to let it drag her down. It would be…an adventure! What would her new house look like? Would her bedroom have a view? Would they have gardens? She focused on these things. Look ahead!

She did not know then it would be a skill she would call upon deeply for the rest of her life.

* * *

Sorry, this was sort of a filler, but a necessary stepping stone...


	9. Chapter 9: Zani Decides

**{Ever thought it was waaaaayyy too convenient that Malcolm Hawke, amazing adventurer and mage, dies mysteriously? yeah, me too ...}**

**[Another chapter from the Spirit/Demon Zani's POV:]**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Zani Decides**

I am NOT evil. Nor, am I good. I am who I am.

Evil is defined by those who stole perfection from me. Good, I suppose, must be its opposite, those who loved me and those whom I loved.

I am also NOT vengeance. No, not that. (but oh, the temptation is so so sweet…but no, not again. That path leads to my ruin each and every time.)

I sigh, and look around.

Farmers! I smirk again. My Hawke is NOT a farmgirl. Yet the family has been working hard learning how to become so, on a small plot of land outside of Lothering. The small village is perfect for them as a refuge. Malcolm wisely hid their gold at first, slowly buying what they needed here and there, learning to work the ground and muster up their own vegetables, tend their own cows, and even keep a chicken or two.

It was drab, drab, drab. If it weren't for Hawke herself, and the delightful person she was learning to be, I would have lost my sanity by now.

Although, there ARE a few Templar dreams close by, enough to keep me entertained. The Templars are not a worry here, however. The Chantry Mother is convinced of the family's righteousness; Leandra sends food in for the needy at every opportunity. (Ah, Leandra, who dreams of silks and ribbons! Does her beloved know how she cries in her dreams sometimes?)

My Hawke is growing. Her magic is growing as well. It sings so beautifully to me…

Malcolm, however, might be a problem.

I frown as I consider this. Lying back, I stretch out sensuously upon the grassy hill of the Fade and ponder my options. Malcolm Hawke was a mage I did not want interfering. For the moment, his teaching is vital to my darling, so I will do nothing. That does not mean, however, that I should not plan.

I roll over on my stomach and consider. Malcolm warded his own dreams too well, I could not see them. From Leandra's dreams, however, I noticed a concern last time. I reflect. Malcolm's health, maybe? That little cough, yes. It seems that the man had adventured in places where the air was poison; some of that poison damaged his lungs. That was it.

Motivation always gives me clarity. I giggle.

So…what to do, when the time comes? I pout now (I have an amazingly sexy pout, if only someone could see it to appreciate it). I need…a weapon. A mind that can be influenced.

Carver?

I smile slowly. He was close enough that his dreams were easy to read. With some coaxing, I could lure him close enough to influence him. It would be tricky, but it could be done. He was only ten now, but already his dreams were of adventure; making his own mark in the world. I smirk. A good thing indeed that Carver Hawke had not been born a mage, a pride demon would have him for breakfast.

Not me. I know my place.

I also know what is mine.

I close my eyes, reviewing the books Malcolm had managed to salvage. A few of those had herb recipes that would help ease his condition. These books had to be lost. Destroyed.

Accidently, of course.

And after?

There were other things that could make breathing harder. Poisons.

But I'd have to be so, so careful.

It wasn't anything personal. It just had to be done.

* * *

**[add evil chuckle here]**

(any comments, ideas, suggestions, requests, recommendations. laundry lists, tirades, debates, accolades WELCOME! Please review!)


	10. Chapter 10: Lady Arrives

**{AN**: This next chapter I am shamelessly borrowing a character from the delightfully in-depth work that wintryone gave us: Misadventures of Mari Hawke. My version (below) is mirroring of events that her Hawke recounts about her first love (a boy named Ren) while in Lothering. Wintryone does this so much better than I do- read her fic with the warning NOT to ignore ANY of the details…they always come back, always click into place – so many "ooo! I get it now" moments – deliciousness, all around. TY wintry!}

* * *

**Chapter 10 Lady Arrives**

Market Day. The Autumn market was a bustling affair for the small village of Lothering. All of the families brought the best of their harvests, and merchants from as far away as Denerim set up their stalls. Minstrels wandered through the crowds

Bethany Hawke giggled. "He's following us again!" she whispered to her sister.

Mirah Hawke frowned as she examined a perfectly-red apple. "He wouldn't dare…"

Bethany also reached for an apple. "He is, sister. And his eye still looks all dark from where you punched him!"

Mirah still did not turn around. Mother needed a large bushel basket of sweet apples. The apples from their few trees were still too small, and too few. Who knew it took so long to cultivate a proper fruit grove?

"If he is not careful, he'll get another one to match the first!" Mirah declared. She nodded to the merchant. "We'll take this basket."

They negotiated. Bethany risked a look behind them. The young man in question saw her look, gathered up his courage, and headed in their direction! She tugged on her sister's sleeve. "Here he comes…"

Mirah Hawke rolled her eyes and turned to face Ren. Cousin to one of their local friends, he was a city boy who came down to Lothering every summer to help with the fields. He'd become their friend too. Well, usually. Lately, his comments have been crossing the line, and last week she'd had enough of them. Mirah folded her arms across her chest. Bethany barely stifled a giggle; she thought he was cute.

"Mirah…" Ren began. He frowned, and glanced at Bethany. Bethany smiled, but didn't leave. Ren sighed. His left eye did still look a bit puffy. Mirah wondered how he had explained it to his aunt and uncle…

"Um…" he tried again, running his hand through his hair. 'look, what I wanted to say is…"

Mirah raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry about what I said," he confessed.

Bethany looked at her sister. Surprisingly, she saw Mirah's suspicions begin to fade. She barely suppressed another giggle.

Mirah cleared her throat. Somewhere in her memory, she heard her mother say something about young women learning to be gracious. She really should give it a try. "I…accept your apology," she said.

Ren smiled. Mirah was surprised on how…nice, that smile looked.

"Mirah!" Carver called. "Bethany!"

Mirah startled, and turned. Bethany frowned. Ren ran his fingers through his hair again. He wasn't quite done with what he wanted to say.

Bethany's twin ran up to the group, and tugged Mirah's hand. "You've GOT to come see this!"

He was being loud. Too loud. Bethany shushed him, and looked around for any of the local Templars.

Carver ignored her. "Come on! Hurry!" He pulled Mirah.

"The apples!" Mirah protested.

"I'll get them," offered Ren.

Mirah flashed a smile at him, her blue eyes offering a warmth Ren had never seen before.

Ren decided there and then he'd carry her apples to the moon, if necessary.

The group followed Carver, before the boy would combust with excitement.

Carver led them around the edges of the Harvest Festival. They dodged stacks of crates and taunt tent-lines that were staked into the ground. "Carver, where are you taking us?" Mirah complained.

The sounds of growling and barking struck them all at once. The Mabari breeder had a large, fenced-in area away from the rest of the fair. The Bann himself, with one of his sons, was speaking to the Kennelmaster, looking over the pups.

Mirah pulled back, losing Carver's hand. "Carver!" she hissed. "We can't-"

He motioned, though. Behind the kennels.

The sisters frowned. They checked back with Ren, who was slower as he carried the heavy basket of apples.

"Come on!" Carver insisted.

They followed. Around the back of the kennel, a small square of lower fencing enclosed…Mirah gasped. The most adorable puppies…

She still frowned at her brother. "Carver, we can't afford a Mabari. Besides, mother doesn't LIKE dogs, remember?"

"Father likes them! Besides, look over there-" he pointed.

A smaller, whiter-shaded puppy was set aside from the rest. Mirah's heart went out to it immediately. They stood at the edge of the fence and watched. As if sensing the attention, the pup lifted its head shakily and sniffed the air. It moved its stubby tail.

Bethany grabbed Mirah's arm. "Oh sister, he's sick. We've GOT to help it!"

Just then, the Kennelmaster's assistant opened the gate on the other side of the pen. He stopped when he noticed the locals gathered at the edge. "Hey!" he said. "Don't get near those pups!"

Carver opened his mouth to reply, but Mirah smoothly stepped on his foot. Instead, Mirah…smiled. "We were just watching them. They're so beautiful!"

The young man's anger melted. "Uh…yes, they are." He tore his gaze away from the local girl's blue eyes. Had he ever seen eyes like hers before? He doubted it. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Still, though. The Kennelmaster won't want you too close to these pups. They are still young, and impressionable."

"What about that one over there?" Mirah asked.

The assistant followed her gaze, and sadness filled his features. "She's sick, she is. We don't think that one is going to make it."

Mirah shared a look of despair with her siblings.

The assistant stepped to the isolated pup. "I…I will have to put her down, probably." He confessed.

"We'll take her!" Carver piped up, too eagerly. Mirah wanted to kick him.

The assistant frowned. "She is probably going to die, why would you want to do that?"

"We've nursed lots of sick animals, serah," Bethany explained. It was truth. Of course, Mirah had used her magic ...

The assistant frowned thoughtfully.

Mirah held her breath.

"If….IF she will accept one of you, I'll do it. BUT!" he added, holding up a hand, "You can't tell the Kennelmaster…and…you can't ever breed her."

The foursome nodded.

Casting one nervous look over his shoulder, the assistant gingerly gathered the whitish pup into his arms.

Carver thrust his hand out toward the pup eagerly. Startled, the young mabari drew back against the assistant's chest and growled.

Mirah looked at Bethany, who shook her head, not trusting her hand to a growling mabari. Taking a deep breath, Mirah slowly held out her hand, while making soothing sounds.

"That's it," said the assistant. "Easy does it. She's not feeling well."

They watched, nearly holding their breath…

The pup tentatively sniffed.

Mirah sent her happy thoughts, of healing, running in the field after rabbits…

The pup's eyes lightened. Her little tail wagged. Suddenly, the assistant could not hold her, as she scrambled to jump over into Mirah's arms!

The assistant smiled happily as the pup licked Mirah's face. He coughed, then, remembering the danger. "Now, quick! Get her out of here! And we never had this conversation!"

IOI

Zani was perplexed.

She circled Mirah's dream, where the puppy played and barked happily. Zani had never sensed a mabari before. It, or rather, she, as Zani noted, was much more than just a dumb beast. How had this been accomplished, Zani wondered.

The puppy adored Mirah. That much was certain.

Zani watched, and waited.

Surprisingly, it was the Mabari who found HER.

Mirah ran after the pup in her dream, wondering where here little Lady was going. "Lady! Wait!" Mirah called.

Lady was growling.

Zani froze, sitting primly with her knees drawn close to her chest, her eyes wide with…fear?

Mirah stopped. It had been a long while since she had seen Zani face to face. The demon, or whatever she was, was always close, but had been keeping out of sight, as Mirah had bidden her.

Now her Mabari had found her.

Zani tilted her lovely blonde head at the hound. "What a brave and beautiful creature…" she said, looking up at Hawke.

Hawke was staring at Zani. Her 'friend' had aged too, it seems, here in the Fade. They were both fifteen now, becoming young women. Zani, of course, was breathtakingly beautiful. Mirah frowned.

Lady growled again, stepping closer.

Zani blinked, her self-assurance rattled. "Mirah? Please call her back…I want to be friends."

_Best friends_.

Mirah Hawke sighed, and knelt beside her mabari pup. "It's okay, Lady, this is Zani." She said reassuringly.

Lady stopped growling, and sat down, tongue lolling contentedly.

Zani held out a hand tentatively…

Mirah's breath stilled. If Zani were truly evil, would not the mabari sense it? Even here in the Fade?

Lady tilted her head curiously, leaning to sniff, cautiously, at demon's fingers. Zani smiled slowly, getting a sense of the creature now. Pure devotion! Was there anything more beautiful anywhere? It was a feeling…a feeling she had not felt in so long….

Mirah could not believe the tears on Zani's face. Of course, perhaps she should NOT believe them, given that she was probably a demon. She felt so confused!

Lady wagged her tail and barked happily. She leapt forward and licked the spirit's tears. Zani laughed, crystalline and full of chimes.

Mirah smiled, and held out a hand to Zani. She was impossible to resist; how had she done so for this long?

Zani smiled, blinking away happy tears. She took Mirah's hand and stood.

The girls embraced.

Lady danced in happy circles.

* * *

next: Zani gives Hawke some advice for her love-life. :-)

please review! Each chapter seems to pull me in conflicting directions, much like Zani does to Hawke...


End file.
